


Cinderella She Seems So Easy

by TheBluestBluebird



Series: The Stars Are Beginning to Hide 'verse (A/B/O of my dreams) [2]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBluestBluebird/pseuds/TheBluestBluebird
Summary: “You...aren’t planning on killing anyone, are you?” Ben asks nervously. He’s looking at Evie still, but Mal can see his eyes dart to her too, and around to the boys. Checking who will crack first, probably. It’s a good instinct, if misguided in this case. None of them are the weak link. Four hearts as one, baby. They’ve got the power, and they’re not afraid to---Betray their parents to the crown and risk their own lives in the process.Yeah.
Series: The Stars Are Beginning to Hide 'verse (A/B/O of my dreams) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050911
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little teaser until I can devote more time to making this fic what It's meant to be. 
> 
> No warnings for this little snippet-- but there's an angst storm on the horizon.

Ben’s face is open, easy. So trusting. 

“Of course!” he says, earnest and sweet. Like he always is. “You can tell me anything.” 

Mal watches Evie fidget. It’s a bit overdone, but Evie is good at what she does, and drawing sympathy out of Ben is easier by far than drawing secrets out of the Salt kid and their father.

“It’s kind of, well,” Evie hesitates. Looks down. Glances back up at Ben through her lashes. Keep quiet, look cute, that’s the way it goes with men. “It’s just a lot to put on you, all at once like this. With you being so busy planning for the coronation and all.” 

Ben is watching Evie, and not the rest of them. A smart boy, except for when he isn’t. “Well, so long as you aren’t planning on killing anyone,” he says with a little laugh. “you can just tell me.” 

The silence after that one goes on just a little too long. Oops. 

“You...aren’t planning on killing anyone, are you?” Ben asks nervously. He’s looking at Evie still, but Mal can see his eyes dart to her too, and around to the boys. Checking who will crack first, probably. It’s a good instinct, if misguided in this case. None of them are the weak link. Four hearts as one, baby. They’ve got the power, and they’re not afraid to--- 

Betray their parents to the crown and risk their own lives in the process. 

Yeah. 

Before Mal can think too hard about what they’re actually doing here, Evie is already trying to recover their audience. 

“Well--” she starts, “We--”

Mal cuts in. “No! We aren’t!” she says, maybe a little too loudly. Technically, it’s true. Planning to enthrall one of the Auradon elite in order to gain access to Fairy Godmother’s magic wand and break down the barrier isn’t technically killing anybody. It’s what would come after, that’s what would kill people. 

Ben looks moderately horrified. Like, sure, he’s upset, but honestly, it could be worse. He looks resigned, rather than livid. Way less upset than he was when they talked about the whole creepy teacher harassing Cee thing. Maybe even less upset than when they told him about the whole thing with the door graffiti, and Jay tried to convince him that publishing their review of the lewd poetry that kept showing up on their door in the school paper was actually a great idea. 

He’s not as upset as he could be, that’s what Mal is saying. Really, a little disappointed look and facepalm action is nothing, compared to some of the shit Ben’s seen in the last week or two. 

“Could you say that one more time, maybe with a little more conviction?” he asks, only slightly muffled by how his head is in his hands. “Please?” 

Mal grins as bright and toothy as she can. She’s got an extra set of teeth coming in, which is a much more fun development than the horns that are also sprouting out of her hairline. “We are not planning on killing anybody!” she announces brightly. 

Ben groans. “Oh, god.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old warning for child abuse/neglect in this one, both explicit and implied. It's gonna get better, but these kids have a long way to go first, and it's gonna take a while. 
> 
> Also a very brief warning for one mention of (non-explicit) suicide. There's also a mention of pseudo-incest at one point, and harm to animals, but neither one is important to the plot and they should be pretty easy to skim over if that's an issue. 
> 
> Also, murder. There's some straight-up implied murder in this one. Almost forgot that lmao.

Maleficent’s henchmen  _ escort  _ Mal and her crew back to Bargain Castle, much to Mal’s displeasure. 

“We’re not going to run, you imbeciles” she snaps at the henchmen. “We’re not stupid like you. Mother calls and we jump. We understand the deal.” 

One of the men glances at her, but doesn’t say anything. Typical. Her mother does prefer the kind of meatheads who are too stupid to ask questions. It’s hard to think about turning traitor when you don’t think in the first place, Mal supposes. She prefers a crew who doesn’t have to be told how to wipe their own asses off after they take a shit, but to each their own. Maleficent prefers loyalty through fear, and it certainly is easier to strike fear into the hearts of those who can’t look beyond the surface level of her control over the isle. Those who can’t see what’s happening with the kids. The goblins. The villains who are coming up and coming into their own, looking at the BIA and the bullshit that they try to pass off as aid, and deciding that they aren’t going to take it anymore. The crews who are growing up on the isle and deciding, fuck it, they’re going to stick together and survive, and screw anyone who says they shouldn’t. 

Mal is escorted through the doors of the castle in the lovingly burly arms of Maleficent’s current muscle-of-the-week, with murder on her mind and her crew shoved along behind her. 

Her mother, of course, is posing on the dais like a lunatic. 

Diablo squawks as Mal stomps into the room, startling Maleficent out of her casual pose. It’s difficult to sweep anywhere when you’re wearing robes down to your feet, but Maleficent hasn’t had much else to practice for the past twenty years, and even without the enchantment that ran out ages ago which used to keep her from tripping over her swirling robes, she manages a decent sweep as she steps off of her lounger and grips the rail of her platform. 

“Mal, darling!” she crows. “You received my message!” 

“Mother.” Mal greets her. “If by received, you mean, your henchmen nearly broke my ankle trying to hold me back so that you could get into that ridiculous pose, then yes, I have received your message.” 

Maleficent throws her head back. “Ah, darling! Always so dramatic. There’s really no need. You  _ will _ be going to the school, you will retrieve the wand for me, and then I will take over Auradon and we’ll be rid of these excessive dramatics! There’s simply no need for you to be acting this way anymore, Mal. You’re not a child.” 

“But mother--” 

Maleficent flings up a hand, cutting Mal off. “But nothing! You are going to Auradon, and your whole little crew is going with you. Order of the  _ prince,  _ and if you even think about disobeying me, missy, you are spending the rest of your miserable life in the dungeon with the other traitors. Maybe you’ll even find your father down there! He’s been hanging around again, hah!” 

Mal’s father is perfectly alive and well, living in the cave on the opposite side of the isle. Mal figured out her full parentage on her own when she was about ten, and her hair started growing in blue highlights after she tried to do CPR on one of the alley cats she’d found frozen one winter, and it worked. Most magic is blocked on the isle, but there’s a certain amount of inherent power that not even the barrier can stop from leaking through, and a talent for bringing people back from the brink of death is something Mal has been gifted with, despite a distinct lack of any other healing talent. 

“I’m not going.” Mal says firmly. “I don’t want to go to school with a bunch of stupid prissy princesses.” 

“You are, and that’s final. You’re going to get off of this miserable rock, find the Fairy Godmother’s wand, and bring down the barrier so that your dear old mother can get what she deserves! We’ll dethrone the so-called heroes together, just like the old days, darling! Just my dearest daughter and I, topping the Auradonian monarchy, causing chaos to run free--” 

“Destroying those who aim to stop  _ us. _ ” Mal reminds her. She’s gesturing to her crew, but Maleficent doesn’t bother to look at her before she goes on. 

“Of course, dearest!” her mother exclaims. “You and me, and my inner circle. Just think about the fires we could set together, once we’re unleashed upon the deserving public of Auradon city!” 

“And me, darling.” Evie’s mother chimes in. “I’ve got some lovely poison with that awful king’s name on it all cooked up and ready to go.” 

Maleficent swings around in a flurry of cape to address Grimhilde directly. “Of course! How could I forget. Destroying the men together. It’ll be something for us to do together, like a couple’s retreat!” 

It’s kind of nauseating to think that Mal’s mother is having an affair with the mother of  _ her  _ girlfriend, but it’s a small island, and worse things have happened. The LeGume children, for one. Besides, even though Mal would never say it out loud, she’s pretty damn sure she got there first. 

Maleficent swings back around to address Mal again. Ugh. Time to look sharp, and don’t think about what they do behind closed doors.

“Would you like that, darling?” Maleficent asks Mal, ever so sweetly. “A nice getaway with your mother, hunting down the princes who sought to limit my power and unmaking them together? We could get facials after, make it a whole thing!” 

“Mother--” 

Maleficent spreads her hands dramatically wide, gesturing not just to Mal, but her whole crew. “You could bring your little crew, of course!” she exclaims. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy it just as much as you want them to. Lots of herbs for your little witch friend to play with, plenty of… creatures to occupy your muscle, and you could even let your little tagalong boy out to do some mischief! Evil knows he could use the confidence.” 

Mal gives in to the impulse to stomp her foot like a toddler. A little entitled tantrum won’t make her mother any less proud of her. “Mother!” she cries. “I am not going to hunt down princes with you!” 

Maleficent stops. “Whyever not, baby?” she asks sweetly. “Don’t you love spending time with your dear old mother? Making lesser villains cower before us?” 

Mal narrows her eyes. “You know I do, mother. Who doesn’t like to be feared? After  _ I  _ recover the wand for Evil’s side, I will be the one to bring down the kingdom of Auradon.” Mal pauses for a beat, for dramatic effect. Maleficent values a good monologue. “You and Grimhilde should be retiring to your castles, not chasing men around the countryside.” Mal continues. “What kind of a daughter would I be if I let my aging mother run amok without even thinking about her comfort? I’d like to put you up in the highest luxury, once  _ I  _ gain control of the mainland.” 

“Oh!” Maleficent laughs, long and loud and entirely too bright to be a good evil laugh. “You are  _ too  _ funny, darling!” she says sweetly. It makes Mal’s skin crawl, listening to her mother when she’s like this. It never lasts for long, but it’s a small comfort as Maleficent’s tone snaps to something flatter, darker. The tones she uses when she expects to be obeyed without question. “Grimhilde, did you hear the girl? She’s calling us old, washed up! It’s like she doesn’t think we’re capable of evil anymore!” 

Evie’s mother chuckles from her throat, without moving her face. “Evie knows what I’m capable of.” she says richly, making a move towards her daughter. “Isn’t that right, dearest? You understand what mommy could do to you?” 

“Yes, Mom.” Evie says quickly. Her mother isn’t quite as awful as Maleficent, but she’s got a vindictive streak of her own that Evie is all too familiar with. She’s uncomfortably, and somewhat hysterically, reminiscent of the parents on the Stage Mama show that they get on the TV sometimes, if the stage mamas were some of the most talented evil witches of their generation, and had no remorse about using every method at their disposal to get their daughters ready to ensnare a prince, rather than the judges. 

“ _ You  _ want to bring us the wand, don’t you baby?” The Evil Queen coos at her daughter, brushing one of Evie’s perfect curls back from her face. Evie sleeps in bulky curlers even when she’s at the hideout to get them to stay in place, so that her mother won’t have an excuse to wield the rusted curling iron they have over at the castle-across-the-way on her head. There’s only so much a girl can take before she snaps, and Mal doesn’t want to see Evie reach that point. 

“You want to make mommy proud,” Evie’s mother continues. “First the wand, and then a husband, and then you can poison the man and make it look like an accident, isn’t that right?” 

“Exactly!” Evie chirps. “I’ll find a man with the best mother-in-law wing you could want. A  _ prince,  _ with a big castle and lots and  _ lots  _ of gold.” 

Grimhilde pats her daughter’s cheek, even as she uses her thumb to viciously smooth away the hint of a wrinkle around Evie’s eyes. “See, Maleficent? Evie is excited to go to Auradon. An invitation from the prince himself, quite the honor! It wouldn’t do to throw away an opportunity as important as this, and certainly not just because your daughter doesn’t think she can handle it. If she wants to stay behind, fine. My Evie can handle herself and their boys just fine on her own, can’t you, sweetheart.” 

Evie seems to melt under the attention, going gooey and princess-y in the face of her mother’s approval. “Of course, mommy.” she promises, face smooth and blankly pleased. “I’ll take good care of them.” 

“See? My Evie has it all under control. We could do without your brat and her posturing, honestly. All the scowling you two do back and forth at each other will give you wrinkles, Mistress of Evil or not, and I only have so much to work with on this miserable rock.” 

“Oh, don’t be so conniving, Grimholde! Mal will be going.” Maleficent says. “She knows where I want her.” 

Mal’s vision is going green around the edges. She’s been working her whole life on this miserable rock, building up her own crew to the point that they’re safe to cause trouble across the whole of the isle, and she’s not happy about the idea of giving up her literal life’s work to go to a princess school where she’ll be expected to start again with terrorizing her peers into submission. She’s got plans, damnit, and a baseball bat she beat out the Hook boy for, and a whole handful of glass shards she hasn’t even had a chance to stick in it yet.

“I will not!” Mal shouts, unwisely. “I don’t want to deal with a school full of princesses getting in my way while I grab the wand.” 

Maleficent narrows her eyes at her daughter. “You will go, and you will follow the plan I’ve given you, and that’s final!” she says, firmly. 

Her eyes begin to glow, and before Mal can think to look away, or do something that’s not  _ stupid,  _ their gazes lock. Maleficent has years on her daughter, but Mal isn’t angry all the time for nothing, and they’re surely more evenly matched than the last time they had this particular kind of clash, Mal is certain of it. 

It hurts. 

It’s like knives being driven into Mal’s skull through her eyes, like iron pieces, or the stolen barge chit that Mal keeps wrapped in a square of fabric when she’s not using. It hurts, and Mal wants to cry out with it, except she can’t remember how her mouth works, where the muscles that would allow her to scream are, where anything is except for her eyes, stuck on her mother and glowing electric with the force of their shared magic. 

Mal breaks the glare with a gasp. It’s more of a collapse than a break, but it gets the job done. The moment her gaze shifts, feeling comes flooding back in, and she can control her body, her lungs again. She’s been practicing, but apparently not enough to stand up to Maleficent, especially when she’s got the dragon’s eye sitting up on her dais with her. Even without being properly powered up, that thing is vicious. The ambient power it sucked up from the pinprick hole in the barrier, even with weeks of use, has made her mother absolutely intolerable. 

Maleficent raises her arms in a showy sweep of her cloak. “I win!” 

“Fine.” Mal snaps, glancing down at the floor instead of watching her mother gloat. “We’re going.” 

It would be so easy to let it stop here. To accept that where Mal goes, her crew follows, and leave it at that. To understand that they’re a crew, and Mal is their leader, and what her mother, as the leader of the isle, the boss bitch fairy who runs the show says, goes. 

That would be too easy. 

Jafar, the slimy old man that he is, takes Mal’s moment of failure as his opportunity to act in his own self-interests. “Hold on a moment.” he breaks in, smoothly. “What will my boy get out of this deal?” 

Of course he’s deciding  _ now  _ that he cares about what his son gets out of anything. Obviously, now that he’s got a stake of his own in the game, he’s going to pretend to care about what Jay does. It’s almost fitting that the man who spent the first half of his life so obsessed with winning power and prestige be reduced to this, begging for authority from a fairy woman and wringing the brightest crumbs he can out of the scraps that the Auradon folk deem bad enough to throw to them. 

Spending even a few years trapped as an unwilling genie, as it turns out, can break even the strongest of men, and for one who was already borderline delusional in his drive for power, Mal believes that it was enough to drive him insane. She certainly doesn’t see the conniving man from the stories in her second-in-command’s fallen father. 

Besides, Jay isn’t afraid of his father anymore. Unlike Mal, and Evie, who have parents who wield some degree of power on the isle, and could make their lives even more of a living hell if they so desire, Jafar has almost no power on the island that doesn’t come from his association with Maleficent, or his network of informants. Stuck relying on the power of others, and without the physical ability to make his son cower before him anymore, he’s nearly useless. Jay might have been afraid of his father, years ago, but ever since he shot up in height the year he and Mal were thirteen (no thanks to his father’s efforts), he’s been able to hold his own against the man. It’s hard to beat the fear of god into your child when your child is just as capable of breathing it back into you. 

“Shut  _ up. _ ” Mal hears Jay hiss.

It’s not going to do much. His father might be largely useless at this point, but he’s still a slimy, conniving man, and Maleficent almost respects him for it. They’ve both had too much use out of Jay and his abilities over the years to dismiss him entirely, and Mal is sure that whatever her mother’s plan is, she has a role in mind for him. 

Sure enough. 

“He’s getting a chance to leave this place, of course!” Maleficent crows. “He’ll be running with royalty, the future leaders, the Auradonian elite! Think about what he can acquire for you, darling! What alliances he’ll be able to make with the royalty he’ll be meeting, and who he’ll know once the children break the barrier and we’re able to take over! Obviously, it won’t be the same as bringing yourself there, with your  _ years  _ of experience, and all, but you’ve taught the boy all you know, have you not?” 

Jafar lies smoothly, Mal will give him that. “Of course I have, mistress, but--” 

Jay cuts his father off, stepping up to the front of the group. “I know everything you could need, your royal horniness. I’d be happy to serve the house of evil once we’re past the barrier.” 

“Insolent brat.” Maleficent snaps, and waves a hand at Jay. Whatever she does to him isn’t visible, but Mal watches his hand spasm as he fights against whatever kind of pain she’s inflicting upon him. 

“What will you do, once we send you on your way?” Maleficent demands “Tell your mistress.” 

“I’ll make us an in with the royal children. You’ll never want for information so long as they’ve found a friend in me.” Jay says, so smooth that Mal almost can’t tell that he’s gritting his teeth against whatever Maleficent’s hold is doing. 

“And what else?” 

“I will continue to protect you--” he breaks, just for a second. “Mal, I’ll protect Mal with my life. I won’t let her come to any harm. I’ll advise you--” 

“Ah-ah,” Maleficent raises a single finger, cutting him off. “The new queen.” 

“The new queen, whatever, I’ll advise her on who to keep or kill once we get the wand, break the barrier, and bring in a new age of evil!” 

Maleficent looks bored. “You will not betray her.” she drawls. 

“I will not betray the new queen of Auradon.” Jay repeats. “I will not betray her.” 

Maleficent releases the hold, letting Jay stagger back with a gasp. “Very good! I do  _ so  _ love a boy who knows what he’s good for. Will you be wanting him for anything else, darling?” 

Mal wants to kill her mother. She wants to drive iron spikes into her black heart, and although she would like to be the one to do it herself, she can recognize a kind of wisdom in sending someone who won’t be burned by the iron spikes she’s been thinking about to do it for her. Jay will do nicely. He’s  _ hers,  _ loyal in a way that she can’t be sure about with the other two, and she’ll need him by her side for her future plans. 

Out loud, Mal forces her voice to go cold and blank. Screaming out her white-hot rage isn’t going to do her any good  _ now.  _

“I can get anything else I want from him myself, mother.” she says coolly. “You know the help responds better when you let them think they’re making the decisions for themselves.” 

Maleficent throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, you have such quaint ideas, dearest! I know, you’ve got a personal investment. Alphas, am I right darling?” 

Grimhilde picks up on her cue. What a suck-up. “So right, my dear.” the woman coos. “Animals, all of them.” 

“You’re lucky to have such a sweet beta for your own, dearest.” Mal’s mother says, calmly. “I don’t know  _ how  _ I’ve put up with raising this one, honestly.” 

“Maybe my Evie will find her a leash and muzzle on the mainland.” 

Both women laugh at that. Hyenas, both of them. Mal can’t wait to get her hands on them someday, once her pack is safe beyond their reach and she’s free to do the things she’s thought about in her daydreams since she first learned how to hold a knife. 

Of course, because nothing can ever go well for Mal, by rule of the cosmic universe or some shit, the very mention of leashes stirs the attention of the remaining adult in the room. Leashes and collars, bear traps and hunting knives, she likes anything that reminds her of her heyday. If she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will, and all that. 

“What’s that?” Cruella demands, suddenly. “Leashes? The children are going somewhere with leashes?”

Mal isn’t scared of evil things, but that doesn’t mean she’s a fan of Cruella. Going after animals, it’s weak and tactless. Not thinking about the long term. There’s some money there, of course, but no real power, nothing to be leveraged once the coat is made, and yet she still got thrown in with the rest of them, the true plotters. Stealing kingdoms, murdering children, cursing infants, and then, over there, the dognapper. 

Pathetic. 

Maleficent, of course, cackles. “Cruella, get with the moment, really!” she calls.. “They’re taking all of the children over to the mainland.” 

Cruella grabs for her son. “I’m not sending my boy anywhere on that filthy mainland!” she cries. “I would never be able to bear it. I need him here far too much.” 

“Really?” Carlos asks. “Mom?” 

“Of course!” Cruella shrieks. “Who else would guard my furs at night? Fluff my babies? Clean the house, and, and--” 

Maleficent cackles over the quiet sound of Carlos’s hopes being squashed yet again. He’s too attached to the idea of family, that boy. It’s never once turned out well for him, and yet, nearly every month Mal has to drag him out of that house after he’s tried to do some impossible thing for his mother again and suffered her consequences. She’s tried to convince him to leave, to move into the hideout with her and Jay, at least part-time, but he keeps insisting that the other occupants of the wreck his mother calls a house wouldn’t be able to survive without him, and he’s got some kind of family responsibility to keep them alive. 

Personally, Mal thinks that he’s half right. The other residents of Hell Hall wouldn’t last a fortnight without her boy keeping them alive, and if they’re too stupid to know it, then that’s their fault and they deserve to die when he leaves. Mal can’t wait to see it. She would  _ love  _ to stick around, watch the adults flounder, and finally starve to death as they realize that Carlos’s work with Mal, and with the dock workers, is what’s been keeping them fed for the last eight years. She wants to see all of them, the adults who have failed her family, grow rotten and black with filth as they scream and yell and let the house fall to ruin around them as they fail to realize that her boy is gone, and he’s not coming back. Mal would be fucking  _ delighted  _ to watch Cruella choke on her own vomit after drinking herself into a stupor, or to tear at her own arms with those red-painted claws she keeps built up, or to light herself on fire with one of her own horrible cigarettes, instead of taking her urges out on her son. 

Still. Say what you will about Mal’s pack, but they’re loyal to a fault, even when it makes things harder for them. 

Maleficent laughs, and the world keeps moving. They might be close to getting out, but they aren’t there yet, not in Mal’s eyes. They won’t be out until the barrier closes behind them. 

“Well, best start figuring out how to tell the prince of Auradon no, then!” Maleficent shrieks at Cruella. “They’re taking the children, whether we want them to or not, and we’re going to make the best of it while they’re gone!” 

The woman in question gasps theatrically, grabbing at her son’s hair as she does so, pulling him close with the steely grip of the truly delusional. “No!” she cries. “Oh, puppy, I’d miss you too much. They can’t take you away, no. Mommy wouldn’t let them do that to you. He’s too young to go to the mainland, isn’t he? How old are the children?” 

“Sixteen, darling. Old enough to be causing their own trouble.” 

“No, no no no. That’s not right. They’re too little for that, they can’t be old enough to leave us just yet.” 

“Just because you starve the boy doesn’t mean he’s a child, darling.” Maleficent snaps. “They’re more than old enough to go out on their own, and in fact, if you don’t send him along with my daughter, I may find that there’s not nearly enough space in my new castle for a washed-up old designer who hasn’t done anything truly evil in years.” 

Cruella gasps. Her hands are both occupied, but she still manages to have the air of somebody dangling an expensive wine glass between delicate fingers that just. Might. 

Slip. 

“How dare you suggest that _ I  _ don’t know evil.” Cruella says, voice low and eyes wild. “How  _ dare _ you.” 

“Ohh, not in front of the  _ children _ ,” Maleficent drawls. “They’re just  _ so  _ young and sweet yet. How could you, darling? It’s sad, seeing you push around your henchmen like this. Can’t hire new blood, so you had to produce one yourself, I suppose. Even so, he’s not good for much, is he?” 

Cruells gasps again, spreading her arms wide as she does so. Her coat slips slightly off one elegant shoulder, revealing a slice of warm brown skin along her collarbone and a glimpse of layered gold necklaces before she lifts her arms further, and the coat slides back into place. Always with the dramatics, Cruella de Vil. 

Unfortunately for Carlos, she’s still got a grip on his hair as she indulges in her dramatic posturing, and he’s dragged along for the ride. 

“Mom--” 

“Mistress of all Evil?” she spits. “Hah! Mistress of bastard children, more like. Buried your husband in your basement, couldn’t even make good use of him once that girl ruined you!” She grabs for the strap of her leather purse, soft undyed leather more delicate and rare than anything else on the isle. “My son is more useful than your alpha daughter will ever be. He’s going to secure my legacy, aren’t you, puppy? You’re going to give me a daughter, yes you are. A little girl for mommy to teach, and we’ll live longer than any of these witches. We don’t even need magic, not when I’ve got you. My own  _ sweet  _ little boy.” 

Maleficent never leaves an opportunity to sow strife unmet. “Oh. let go of the child, really.” she snaps. “A legacy won’t do you much good if we’re all trapped on this rock, don’t you see? We need the children to leave if they’re ever going to get anywhere, and this is our golden opportunity! Think of it as a training, if you will. My daughter will bring your boy to heel, and you can have all the puppies you want from him, as soon as they get us out of here. It’s simple, honestly! You people need to learn to look to the future of evil!” 

“How long before the children are to be picked up, Maleficent, dearest?” Evie’s mother asks. 

Just like that, Maleficent snaps out of her theatrical pose, transforming herself from the very picture of evil, the mistress of darkness, queen of the night, into the usual tiny, yet frighteningly authoritative woman she usually is. “Aah, it said in the letter.” she says, pointing at Mal. “Fetch, darling.” 

She waves a hand, and Mal scrambles to retrieve the letter from where her mother dropped it at the end of her last grand speech. The paper is shockingly thick and un-greasy. None of the usual oil smears that Dizzy’s letters from her almost-father have. The privilege that skipping the usual barge mailbag gets, Mal guesses. 

Maleficent rips the paper out of her hands. “Ah-- here we are. The children of Maleficent, Grimholde, etcetera, are to be summoned to the gates of the castle overlooking the market, blah  _ blah,  _ here we are, on the next upcoming barge day following the receival of this missive.” she tosses the paper aside again. “So, they have two days, dearest. Best to get your girl primped and plucked now, just in case they decide to swoop down early!” 

Oh, gods. It’s not enough time to get anything in order. “Mother--” Mal tries. 

Maleficent waves a hand. “I simply won’t hear it, darling! You are to go--with this little crew of yours, of course, and you are to collect the wand from wherever the witch is stashing the thing, and then you are to break the barrier, and we’ll come to you. It’s simple, darling. Not even your little crew could mess it up, do you understand me?” 

It’s stupid to argue now. Better to let her mother believe that she’s going to follow the plan, and come up with something better once they’re alone. “Perfectly.” Mal says, the very picture of a dutiful daughter of evil. 

“Wonderful!” her mother cries. “Go on, off you get. Pack up your things, or something. Or don’t. I don’t care what you do, so long as you get out of my sight! Go!” 

Mal goes. It’d be stupid to linger, with that kind of a dismissal. Her crew might follow her. They might not. Whatever. It’s not like Mal has it in her to care what they do anymore. They can drown, for all she cares. 

It’s not going to matter pretty soon. 

++ 

Mal’s pack regroups at their hideout that evening. They’re going to go to Auradon. The land of princes and princesses, pretty pink nonsense, chivalry and castles that aren’t crumbling to pieces under their feet. They’re going to get to see the place that’s been sending them their leftovers for the last twenty years. The land of plenty, and plenty to destroy. 

Mal isn’t going to say that she’s excited, not by a long shot, but there’s something curling in her chest at the thought of a new stomping ground, and not just because she’s ready to leave this place behind. Her mother controls the island, but even Maleficent hasn’t managed to reach the mainland on her own yet, and without Mal’s help, she’s not going to. This is the best chance that Mal’s ever going to have to make herself truly invaluable to her mother, and-- 

Well. 

It’s a new page. She gets to decide how to ruin it. 

“What’re we doing, Mal?” Evie asks, once they’re all settled around in the ratty couches and armchairs that they’ve dragged up here over the years. 

That’s an easy one. They might be getting their chance soon, but for right now they need to play it by the book and act as obedient as possible. “Following our parents’ orders.” Mal says immediately, no hesitation. 

Evie pulls back. “Really?” she asks, making a face. 

“Yes, really! Do you have a better plan?” Mal demands. She’s spent most of the night trying to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve them being found out before they even set foot off the isle, and she’s got a headache pounding behind her eyes from the effort, and no real results beyond putting this conversation off until they’re somewhere that’s actually secure, and not a big drafty warehouse with too many windows to ever hope securing against Diablo. “Getting the magic wand is the fastest way to bring down the barrier. My mother is right about that. I don’t have any interest in ruling an entire kingdom of do-gooders, and if my mother is occupied with taking care of all the nuances of staging a hostile takeover, then she’s not going to be paying very much attention to us, and we can do whatever we want.” 

Evie gapes at her. “You want to let her out of here?” she cries, “Mal, we could run. Leave them behind and not look back. Auradon is the best chance we’re ever going to get to leave this place and  _ never deal with them again. _ ” 

Mal closes her eyes, just for a second. The hideout isn’t safe, not with Diablo and her mother’s other informants out and about causing mischief. She’s already found feathers outside on the window they’ve rigged to climb in and out by. Sure, her mother can’t see them directly, but with her familiar up and flying again, nowhere on the island is going to be safe from her eyes. 

“Say we do that.” Mal spits back. She shouldn’t be snapping at Evie, not now, but gods, her head hurts and she doesn’t know what else to do. She’s the planner, the mastermind, but she can’t explain the plan when they’re in this situation, and she can’t explain that she can’t explain it at risk of never getting the chance to explain it, and it’s making her brain spin. “We take this chance, go with it. We don’t even try to get the wand for her, and we make a break for it as soon as we’re outside the barrier. What happens in a year, when they escape without our help?” 

The others are all staring, silent. Yeah, this is what she gets for being the only one with the brains to  _ think  _ about what could happen if they let their game go too soon. A bunch of idiots. 

“What happens to us then, Evie?” she goes on, spitting the words out into the yawning silence. “They hunt us down for sport, and we let my mother burn our corpses before Cruella can turn us all into scarves.  _ That’s  _ the best thing that’ll happen if we try to run. If it goes really well, we might make it for a few years! Maybe we’ll find a nice little place where they don’t know who we are and hate our guts just for existing, but I’m not betting on it! No matter what we do, if we betray them outright, they’re going to come for us. Your mother might be proud of your schemes, but she’s still going to let Maleficent dance in our ashes when she catches up to us.” 

Mal stops for a moment, chest heaving. Gods, she thought she had stamina, but apparently a lifetime of breathing in the literal garbage smoke that people burn instead of giving up and freezing to death in the drafty warehouses that the  _ good kingdom  _ left for all the prisoners on their little evil experiment to live inside can ruin a girl’s lung capacity. 

Mal drops her head, still breathing hard. She can’t say it outright, but maybe, just maybe, her crew will be able to pick up on it. “I know, I should have a plan by now,” she says slowly, significantly, “but if my mother gets word of any scheming happening between us before we’re _through_ that _barrier_ , she is going to make our lives even more of a living hell, and we’re never going to see another chance at getting out. We can’t turn on them yet, not before we know what Auradon is like. We won’t make it out if we do.” 

Evie folds her arms across her chest, slowly. “So we have no choice but to go in blind.” she says, drawing the words out, as though she’s giving Mal time to take it back. “Really.” 

Mal doesn’t have anything better. Really-really. 

“I’m saying, we need to get off the isle without alerting our parents to any kind of scheming,” she repeats, instead of screaming her fool head off at Evie. “And the easiest way to do that is going to be keeping our heads down and our mouths shut for another day. Can you do that, princess?” 

Evie glares. “I’m not the weak link here, babe.” she spits, and spins around on her perfect heel to stomp out of the hideout. 

Mal should stop her. She should be a competent leader, and go after her team when they’re thinking about defecting. Boost morale and all that shit. Maybe find a nice beach to claim as their own or something, down by the water so that the next time Evie decides she’s not worth listening to anymore just because she can’t be direct about her ideas, she can throw herself right to the sharks instead of sitting like an idiot in a drafty warehouse attic while a pair of morons stares at her like she’s the one who’s causing problems on purpose today. 

Mal can’t deal with this. She’s got too much shit to do, and too little time to do it in. She jumps up, and snarls down at Jay when he opens his mouth to-- stop her, maybe? 

“Shut the fuck up.” she spits. “I’m dealing with her. Get your own shit in order, magic boy.” 

As insults go, it’s not very good. Usually she’d be able to come up with something better, but there’s a only a certain number of dramatic speeches that Mal can muster in a single day, and if she’s going to go bring Evie back, she’s got to save what’s left for that, instead of trying to make her second-in-command leave her the fuck alone so that she can figure out how to deal with her girlfriend deciding that she hates her and would rather starve to death in her mother’s dungeon than pick up on Mal’s perfectly legitimate plan of not verbalizing her plan until they’re somewhere that doesn’t have the washed-up mistress of all evil breathing down their backs ever single waking second. 

It’s not the mature thing to do. It’s not leaderly, or alpha-y of her at all. 

Mal storms out. 

Sure, maybe she shouldn’t rip the door apart with her bare hands, or whatever. Maybe she should try out some ‘self-control’ or ‘meditation’ or whatever her mother keeps prattling on about in their stupid pointless magic lessons. Practice controlling her dragon strength, instead of letting in burst out whenever she needs to get something done. Or whatever. 

It’s hard to slam the door of the hideout when she’s holding a chunk of it in her hand, but she manages. She’s resourceful like that. Crumbling industrial metal, zero. Magic teenager, one. 

+++

Mal storms out. It would be more of a problem if she didn’t make dramatic exits at least once a week. The door might be a problem eventually, but eh, if they’re leaving anyway it’s probably not worth finding something to fix it with. They’re almost out of rivets anyway, and they’re kind of tricky to pop off things without getting caught, so it’s probably gonna be fine if they just leave the door with a chunk out of the side. 

There’s better things Jay could be doing anyway. 

“What’s bugging her ass?” Jay says out loud, mostly just to say something. He just talks sometimes, and lets other people decide if they’re going to pay attention to him. Carlos almost always pays attention to him. 

Jay sneaks a glance over, just in case Carlos isn’t paying attention, and this is one of the other times, when instead of being up to do dumb shit and let Jay follow along for whatever explosions he’s going to make, Carlos is freaking out and won’t ask to be left alone even though he really wants to be. Nope. He’s glaring. 

“Her mother, maybe?” Carlos says, with a strong undertone of  _ are you stupid???  _

Jay’s not stupid. Some of the girls at Dragon Hall might say otherwise, but that's their problem, not his. So what if he doesn’t like school, he’s got all the basics down, and that’s more than some people can say. Working a crowd is more important than being able to plow through a textbook in a night anyway, and skipping school with Mal means he’s got more time to figure out how to backflip off the bent light pole down by the bloodstains on the main street, and swipe stuff from the barges before it can even get to market. 

Still. 

“Yeah, okay.” Jay says, considering it. Maleficent is ordering them all around again, Mal’s mad about it, and now the girls are somewhere else doing girl stuff that they’re not going to want to talk about when they get back. The scale of the ordering around might be bigger than usual, but the general shape of things is more or less the same as always, and it’s pointless to try and fight it at this point. It’s probably gonna be better to go along with whatever Mal comes up with for now, and figure out the rest on the fly. “You wanna blow shit up?” he asks, instead of thinking about the rest of it. “We’ve got powder in the box still, yeah?” 

Carlos looks up from where he’d been staring kind of intensely at the floor. “Yeah.” he says, and then again, like he’s convinced himself by saying it twice. “Yeah. Always, man.” 

They’ve been keeping the black powder in the lockbox, just to keep it dry. It’s with their pile of personal crap that they keep in the corner, and okay, there are other ways to walk over, and maybe Jay takes the route that means he gets to throw an arm around Carlos’s shoulders on the way on purpose, but that’s fine. Touching your bro is a neutral action. No recharge, no penalty. “Just two bros, blowing shit up together. No schemes here.” 

Carlos moves with him, luckily. For such a little kid he can really get in the way if he wants to. “None schemes.” he says, kind of nonsensically. “With left… treason.” 

It’s probably a joke that would make more sense to Evie. She’s smart in the same way that Carlos is. She gets the shit that they read in books, the two of them, and not just the moldy textbooks that they’ve got at Dragon Hall either. Carlos and Evie collect books like some people collect jewelry, like they’re things to treasure and not just use as firestarters. Tragic nerds, both of them. 

Jay pulls Carlos along with him over to check the lockbox. Powder, check. They’ve even got a decent amount of the pink powder left, which, score. 

“Hey, we could use all those bottles you’ve been stockpiling if we’re out of here in a few days, right?” Jay asks. “No point in leaving them around if we’re not gonna be here anymore.” 

That gets Carlos perking up. Nothing like a little mayhem and destruction to get a boy interested in something again. 

“For sure, yeah!” he says, and he doesn’t even sound sad about it. Like the thought of smashing the bottles he’s been stockpiling for weeks just to make a couple of fireworks fly a little bit farther doesn't hurt at all. Like it’s no big deal that they’ve gotta work through their whole stock of shit before they leave, only like, for real this time. Before they get sent away to do something a whole lot worse than throw a bunch of fireworks at the dock. “Let’s do it.”

It takes, like, five minutes to get everything piled up. Bottles, powder, rags to use as fuze, and then their lighters. It’s a short trip to pretty much any part of the island, but the old docks are closer than most places, hence why they use them so much for shit like this. It’s not even dark yet. It’s still summer, really. The air still smells like rotting fish mixed with hot piss down by the docks. It hasn’t shifted yet into it’s winter smell, rotting fish mixed with garbage, and it feels weird. Summer isn’t supposed to be a time for things to change. 

There’s still an open spot on the wall overlooking the docks, though. There’s still a burn mark on the big rock out halfway down the beach from where they fucked up real bad doing this same thing last year, and there’s still an awful lot of bottles to blow up, so some things never change. Jay’s still got a big old burn scar on his left hand, not from doing this, and he’s still got his crew. He tries not to look on the bright side of things, usually. Nothing gets that bright out here on the isle, not with the cloud cover, but at least they aren’t getting split up. 

Carlos dumps a handful of colored powder into a bottle. They’ve got a system by now, a bunch of little baggies sorted out by the color they make. They’re not arsonists, so there’s gotta be some artistry to their fires. They’re villains, after all, and good villainy is all about the presentation. 

It takes long enough that Jay’s got two bottles lined up and waiting to be thrown, and a third in his hand, before Carlos starts talking. 

“D’you think Mal’s right?” Carlos asks the bottle in his hands. “Not that it matters. Just. Uh--” 

Jay looks at him out of the corner of his eye, without turning his head. Eye contact’ll scare some of the littler things off, that’s an Isle lesson you’ve gotta learn young. “‘bout what?” he asks. 

Carlos shrugs .“Our parents.” 

Oh.

“Yeah. Probably.” Jay says. It’s true. If they mess this one up, or if Mal’s mom decides they’re scheming against her and puts a stop to the whole thing before they even make it through the barrier, they’re toast. 

“Right.” Carlos says, and shoves another handful of powder in his bottle, a little more violently than he usually would. Like he’s trying to cover up the fact that he’s scared by acting mad. Mal does it all the time, and Jay’s good at talking her out of stupid shit, usually. He can do this too. 

“She’ll come up with something once we’re out of here, man.” Jay says, and reaches over to bump Carlos’s shoulder with his fist. “She always does.” 

Carlos leans away this time, though, and stops dumping explosives into his bottle. “Is it gonna work, though?” he says, shoving the bottle between his knees so he can gesture without it in the way. “Like, I’ve already got the--” he makes a face to go with the hand motion this time. “y’know. It’s not like this is our only chance.” 

“What, if you can get another car battery, and we can swim out to the barrier without getting your shit wet, and keep the pirates off long enough to get anything going out there?” Jay shoots back. Sure, they’ve got the barrier breaker machine, but it’s, in the most generous terms, a broken pile of garbage right now, and without the parts to fix it, they might not be able to use it even if they could get a boat out to the edge of the barrier without getting shot down. “This is the best chance we’re gonna get, man.” Jay says, instead of saying the rest out loud. “They want to take us out, like, for real.” 

Carlos rolls his eyes, and grabs a rag to start stuffing in the top of the bottle. “I know that. I’m just  _ say _ ing, it’s not like this is the only chance we’re ever gonna get. Even if they decide to throw us back in after like, talking to Mal, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll get us out of here someday.” 

He lights and lobs the bottle. It makes a beautiful arc out over the beach, and shatters on the dock before exploding. The wet wood doesn’t catch, which is why they came out here. Mayhem is fun, chaos is great, and burning down half the town because you forgot to pay attention to how much powder you were packing in the bottle isn’t something anybody wants to deal with. Shanking a guy because he tried to grope Evie is one thing, but playing with fire around the wood houses and stalls of the market area is too far even for them. There’s kids in those houses, and things are only gonna get worse for them if there’s another large-scale disaster this year. 

Maybe blue would look cool. Jay grabs the container of powder. “Yeah.” he says. “I know.” 

“Do you wanna leave?” 

That stops him mid-pinch. “Are you crazy?”

Carlos shrugs. 

“Yeah, I want out of here. There’s more of everything in Auradon, come on. There’s so much more shit to do, people to see, and like, have you seen some of the stuff they do for TV? I would kick ass at that challenge course show.” 

“You think they’ll let you leave the princess school just to kick ass on the challenge course?” Carlos says, already halfway to laughing at him. “Really?” 

Jay sets down the half-filled blue bottle and picks up one of his finished bottles to light instead. Yellow and pink, it’ll look like one of those funky little moths that they get on the window all the time. “Hell yeah!” he says. “I’ll climb out the window, or whatever. You think a school is gonna care that much about keeping us inside all the time?” 

Carlos shrugs, one-shouldered and easy. “Maybe. Some of the books that come over--” 

Jay chucks the bottle. It explodes in midair before it even hits the dock, in a sweet little burst of pink and yellow sparkles. “You believe all those books? What about the ones that say Evie’s mom eats kids? And the ones that say the heroes take great care of us out here and it’s all ethical and moral and we’re out here cause we deserve it for going against their innate forces of goodness?” 

Carlos hits him. “I know that’s not true, man!” he says “They’re allowed to publish anything they want in the stories. I was talking about the textbooks Evie likes. All the sociology and psychology stuff.. People-stuff, where they say, like, kids need to be in school for so many hours to like, make connections and develop normal senses of self and social boundaries and stuff.” 

That makes a lot more sense, actually. Jay drops the powder bag out of the way, and lunges. “Are you saying we don’t have normal boundaries?” he grunts, grappling to get his little smartass in a headlock. “Is that what you said?” 

“Ow! Hey!” 

Jay scrubs a hand through Carlos’s hair, knuckles-first. Not so nice now, is he? “Say we’re normal.” Jay demands. “We’ve got boundaries.” 

Carlos practically shrieks. “No!”

“Say it!” 

The little fucker wiggles, and almost gets an arm out before Jay yanks his other arm harder, locking him in place. “Fuck you!” Carlos shouts, and goes for the hand. 

Jay drops him immediately. You don’t get the nickname ‘rabies’ for no reason. “Don’t fuckin’ bite me, man! Not cool.” he says, and then squares up quick just in case Carlos decides to take personal offence at being dropped into the bottle pile and comes up swinging. 

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to especially care. “You wanna go?” Carlos says as he’s rolling back up, but Jay can see how his shoulders are shaking like he’s trying not to laugh, so they’re fine. 

Jay narrows his eyes, adjusting his stance ever so slightly. Gotta make sure you stay low when you’re fighting anyone significantly shorter than you. “Bring it.” 

+++

Evie goes home. 

Her bedroom, the tower where she’s slept since she was a little girl, isn’t her favorite place in the world. Hiding away in the pink canopy bed she’s been sleeping in since she was six isn’t comforting anymore. It’s not as fun as hanging around the salon with Dizzy, or sneaking around the docks chatting with Kyleath and Izodorea, or even bothering Brandon up by the markets, which usually ends up in him trying to get a good look down her top anyway, because he’s an asshole. 

The main advantage that Evie’s bedroom has over those places isn’t that it’s more fun, or comforting, or interesting. The main advantage her bedroom has is that Mal won’t come looking for her in here. Sure, it’s probably wrong for Evie to take advantage of the fact that Mal won’t come up to the Castle Across the Way. She should be a good girlfriend, and hide out somewhere Mal can find her, so that if and when she chooses to come slinking down to mumble some nonsense about how she didn’t mean it like  _ that,  _ not  _ really,  _ she’ll be able to figure out where Evie’s hiding. She should go and say goodbye to Dizzy, and figure out who’s going to get the last of her fabric and designs that she won’t be able to take with her, and work something out with the other healers so that her supplies don’t go to waste if she doesn’t come back, and-- 

She might not be coming back. 

Isle girls don’t get scared. Isle girls know how to handle anything the world throws at them, no matter what it is and how much it sucks to deal with. Spiders, rats, snakes, Evie’s got those down. Bad hair days, Mal’s fangs, her mother complaining that she’s been laughing too much, and she’s getting the first hints of wrinkles around her eyes, so come here, let mommy test out this new eye cream on you, Evie’s got that down too. Knife fight, bleeding friends, asshole family, bleeding friends, genuine accidents with a light pole, beeding friends, Evie’s got those ones down pat by now. Bleeding enemies too. There’s no shortage of bleeding kids on the island. Evie’s not scared of things like that, because no matter what she tells herself every day, she’s not just a princess waiting in her tower for a prince to come save her. She’s an isle girl, and she’s not supposed to be afraid of anything. 

Evie isn’t afraid of leaving the isle. She’s terrified of it. Petrified, really. Because if Mal doesn’t even want to pretend to know what she’s doing with this whole thing, what is Evie supposed to do? 

As it turns out, Evie cries. 

Not for too long, of course, and not until after she’s started sorting through her things, her pretty clothes and shoes and makeup, but. Yeah. She’s a big girl, and she’s allowed to cry if she wants to. Evie spends the day after being told that she’s leaving her home, probably forever, sorting through her things and bawling her eyes out, until it’s starting to get dark and her girlfriend still hasn’t found the guts to come to her goddamn room and tell her she’s sorry for yelling, and so Evie just keeps going until all the tears are wrung out of her, and her things are as ready as they’re going to get today, without a clear head to sort through her fabric bins, and she’s got to move on to other things. 

She’s good at being the medic, and she’s going to need to put off all of her customers onto other people anyway, so she might as well go down to talk to Mad Maddy while she’s here, and maybe Freddie, if she’s feeling generous. It’s a direction, and Evie could really use one of those right now. She can think on the walk down to the beach, that’s fine. 

It takes Evie half the walk before she decides that she’s not going to tell Dizzy that she’s leaving today. Medics first, and then once she’s figured that one out she can move on to social calls. Although, okay, she probably shouldn't tell Freddie that she’s leaving until after she’s already gone. Mad Maddy is a little easier to talk to, most days, and Fred is more likely to spread the word of Evie and her crew leaving, and ensure that they have a lovely welcome crew for however they’re going to get off the island. It’s not that Evie doesn’t trust Freddie, it’s just that-- Yeah, she doesn’t trust Freddie. 

Ugh. Keeping the balance between the different healers on the isle is hard enough even when she doesn’t have to offload all her stash and get off the island within the next few days. Keeping the adults off their backs is hard sometimes, but adding in teenage cliques and the current rivalry that’s happening between the lower and upper market kids, and it’s a nightmare. Evie shakes the worst of the sand off of her shoes before she stomps up the wooden steps to the shack on the east side of the beach. Maddy is only a year or so off from Evie and her crew, but she’s another one of the kids who’s chosen to live on her own. She gets more clientele without her mother around to poison people just because she thinks it’s funny, and when Uma’s crew first found their wreck, Maddie got their scrap wood, and made a pretty decent house out of the whole thing. 

Evie raps on the door. There’s a light inside, so Maddie’s probably home, but it never does to walk in unannounced. 

“Mads?” Evie calls out. “Are you in?” 

There’s a clang from inside the hut. “Whazzat?” a creaky voice calls out from inside. “Whozzere?” 

Evie takes in a deep breath. 

“Maddy?” she calls out again “It’s Evie?” 

“Evelyn?” 

“Evie. I’m here on business.” 

The door pops open, revealing the short, stout shape of Mad Maddy. “Oh, if it’s business, then.” the girl says, squinting at Evie. “That’s alright then. You’d better come in.” 

“Thank you.” Evie says, stepping into the shack. It’s not exactly a big place, but there’s a table and chairs in one corner, and a bed and rollaway in the other, and it’s got enough shelves to store a good amount of supplies yet, even if Maddy were to move everything she’s got hanging from the ceiling into shelf storage, and okay, that’s reassuring actually. Evie’s not going to be dumping her stash onto somebody who’s completely unprepared. 

Maddy shuts the door behind her. 

“What’s business?” she demands, hopping up on the table and gesturing for Evie to take one of the chairs. “You got something good?” 

“Not quite.” Evie admits, even though she doesn’t know what else she’s going to say. “I-- well.” Stupid, stupid, don’t cry, Evie. “I’m not going to be in business for a while, and I want you to take on some of my stock when I go.” 

Maddy squints at her. “Go? Eves, you’re not going to go anywhere. We can’t leave, remember?” 

Evie swallows. “I know, Maddy. There’s been a-- a new development. I’m getting into a different game for a while, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep up once I find out if it’s going to work or not. That’s all.” 

“Not going to join the sharks?” Maddy asks, sharp-eyed. 

Gods. If  _ Maddy  _ thinks that Evie looks bad enough to be considering the shark route, she’s really got to pull herself together. Maybe some more eyeshadow, something smoky, to hide the redness. A dark lip can draw the eye, maybe away from the things she’d rather not have other people seeing just yet. She’s got to reassure Maddy if she wants to have a hope of convincing anyone else that she’s not jettisoning her stash so that she can take a quick swim. “Not hardly.” Evie says, not nearly quick enough. 

Maddy just nods, though. Mother bless her. “Good.” she says, easily. “Whadd’you want?” 

Get it together, Evie. 

“Do you have icers?” Evie asks, as casually as she can manage. Her heart is about fit to thump out of her chest, but her voice is steady, at least. 

“Might do.” Maddy says, suspiciously. “Might have a couple tucked away. Why’d you ask? Princess doesn’t have enough?” 

“I need to stock up on things I’m going to use for my crew, if I’m getting out of the mixing game.” Evie explains. “I’ll also take ginger, if you’ve got some.” 

Maddy squints. “Thought Uma left your band.” she says, slowly. “Killer get another side piece?” 

“Uma left ages ago.” Evie snaps. It’s not like that’s a sore topic, or anything. “And no.” 

“Ohh.” Maddy says, drawing it out, like she’s really only just remembering. “Your little one, right? Rabies?” 

“Look, Mads, it doesn’t matter who they’re for,” Evie says. She’s not going to give up anything else, not when she’s already here, and upset and bleeding her emotions all over the place. “If you’ve got them, I’ll give you my anticoagulants for them. I got a whole tub, the industrial stuff. It works like a charm, and you can cut it easy and get double the profit, if you wanted to start selling.” 

“Why aren’t you?” Maddy demands. “If it’s so easy.” 

“I told you, I’m--” Oh, jeez. Evie doesn’t need to be tearing up for this. It’s a business transaction, nothing more. She doesn’t need to be crying. “I’m switching games.” 

“Sounds like that’s not all you’re doing.” Maddy says, cautiously. She’s not much for affection, but Evie is suddenly, pathetically grateful for the way Maddy reaches out to pat her shoulder. 

“It’s not just that,” Evie admits through her tears. “It’s-- you can’t say, because we don’t  _ know  _ yet. It might fall through and then you’ll have the upper hand over me.” 

“I swear.” Maddy says immediately, sensing something special. “I might be mad but I’m not stupid. Tell your old pal Mads what’s wrong.” 

Evie sniffles. “We’re going to Auradon.” she says. “Order of the prince. My whole crew.” 

“Shit.” 

“I’m trying to dump my stock so it’ll get used by somebody. In case we don’t make it back.” Evie admits. “I would give some of it to Freddie, but she’ll tell her crew before we’re out of the way, and I don’t want scalpers moving in before I’m ready.” 

Maddy nods at that. She understands the delicate balance between the different healers just as well as Evie does, and she’s probably not eager to start off a trend of jumping the medics for their supplies either. She opens her mouth, probably to say as much, and then freezes instead. 

“Shuddup.” she says. “Someone’s here.” 

+++

Mal doesn’t mean to spend the whole day walking around the market avoiding looking for Evie. It just happens that way. 

She needs to find some way of getting her stuff in order, that’s the thing, and that means doing stuff like breaking into Dragon Hall to empty out her locker, and making sure that the last thing she painted on the walls looks up to par for when she leaves. It means she’s got to stop by the market, to make sure Andy the shopkeep knows that she’s still here, and she’s not going to give up terrorizing them just because her mother made a whole scene this morning, and it means finding a suitcase that’ll hold her books, and maybe it means she’s avoiding Evie. Whatever. It’s not like she owes her anything. If she can’t read between the lines, that’s her own fault, and not Mal’s. 

All in all, it takes until dusk for Mal to get her head on right. 

Of course, by that time, Evie’s been seen walking through the market, headed down towards the tree line as far as anyone who’s seen her can tell. Mal, brilliant tactician that she is, decides that she’s going to walk in the same direction, and that eventually, she’ll either find Evie or she’ll have put in enough effort to look appropriately bedraggled and work it out tomorrow. Queen of contingency plans, that’s her. 

There’s not any visible footprints down on the beach, but there are a few scattered fires. One’s got a bunch of the littler pirates huddled around it. The little Smee kids, if Mal’s guessing right, and maybe the Noodler girl too, with the dumb hat she’s been wearing around lately. Kicked off their ship for the night, probably. It’s still summer, so they won’t freeze out here, and Mal doesn’t have to pretend to care about them unless they’ve seen Evie. Mal doesn’t really care about them regardless, but there’s an isle kid code, okay, and that includes looking out for the little ones when you can. Your crew comes first, obviously, and then if someone’s your age you can do whatever the fuck you want to them, but when the kids are still small enough to need help finding their own food and corner for the night, you help them out. Not if they’re your rivals kids, obviously, and not if they’re old enough or strong enough to know better, but if there’s a little kid struggling on your turf, you do what you can. 

Pirates aren’t really Mal’s kind of kids, but the Smee ones belong to Hariret’s crew, and she hates her brother and Uma almost as much as Mal does, so the enemy of her enemy’s gotta be good enough for a quick chat. Mal shouts over to the fire, just in case. It never hurts to stay out of range. 

“Hey!” Mal yells. “Have you losers seen Evie?”

One of the kids stands up. Stupid sparkly hat, that’s the one. Noodler. 

“No!” she yells back. “But you owe me one anyway!” 

Mal raises a hand, acknowledging. Fuck. If Evie’s not here, she doesn’t know where she’s going to look next. Before Mal can turn around to head back to the market though, another kid stands up. Mal doesn’t know this one, but they’ve got an orange striped hat on, and they look dirty. 

“There’s lights on over at Mads’s!” they call. “If you find her there tell Mads she owes me a tater!” 

Huh. It’s as good a place as any, Mal supposes. Why not. 

“Kay!” she calls over the sand. “That’s your one then!” 

The kid throws a stick at her for that, though it doesn’t go very far beyond their little circle. Mal lifts her hand again in parting as she heads around the grove towards Maddy’s, and the kid in the orange stripes waves back, stick already in hand again. No harm done. 

+++

Mal comes to find her, because of course Evie’s stupid girlfrined has to choose just the wrong moment to knock on Maddy’s door. Just when she’s going to get somewhere with working out her own stupid feelings, her stupid girlfrined comes along to-- to-- 

Fuck. 

Maddy pushes Evie outside the hut almost before she catches a glimpse of Mal’s face. “Drop my things off anytime.” Maddy hisses, and then that’s it, the door is shut, and Evie’s facing down Mal in the chilly dusk outside the hut. 

Mal looks windswept and tired. She’s got a piece of twig stuck in her hair, like maybe she walked through a bush on the way here. It’s entirely possible that she did it on purpose. Evie folds her hands into fists, and then, delicately, unclenches them and sets them on her hips. She is not going to lash out, because she is the mature one here, and Mal can figure out how to apologize on her own. 

Mal’d better figure it out on her own. 

“Hey.” Evie’s beautiful, stupid girlfriend says. “Uh. As much as I want you to start yelling at me right here, could we maybe go like--” she jerks her head towards the shoreline. “Somewhere else? First?” 

Fine. If that’s how she wants to play this. Evie can cooperate. “Fine.” she says, sharply. 

Mal lets out a breath Evie didn’t realize she was holding, and leads her away from the hut, down the beach towards the water. Evie isn’t exactly thrilled to go through more sand in her nice heels, but she can’t exactly ask Mal to wait up just so she can pop her shoes off real quick. She doesn’t need to ask Mal for anything other than an explanation, and then they can get over this stupid fight and figure out what they’re going to do about everything else. They’re going to figure it out, because it’s  _ them  _ and they’re a crew and a pack and that has to mean something. Girlfriends isn’t something that Mal’s willing to claim out loud, but crew is fine, and Evie will cling to that with her life, if she has to. She’s not giving up. 

Mal leads her down nearly to the water, so that they’re standing on the hard-packed wet sand, and Evie can barely hear Mal’s voice over the sound of the waves. Mal’s boots are probably going to get wet, but it doesn’t look like she cares, because she turns to face Evie anyway, even though it puts her back to the waves and leaves her open to a bootful of salt water if she misses the sound of a larger-than-usual wave coming in. 

Evie stops as well, and puts her hands back on her hips. “What is it?” she demands. “Are you ready to tell me what the fuck is going on with you today?” 

Mal glances up at the sky before she answers. 

“My mother.” she says “She’s got spies. Diablo’s been around the hideout recently, and if my mother suspects _anything,_ she’s going to make us suffer. She can’t suspect that we’re plotting to make a break for it, she can’t, Eves. She can’t even hear a whisper, because she _will_ do something drastic if she finds out that we’re planning to ignore her and make a break for it, and maybe if she thinks it’s only me, and I’m the only one who’s going to make a grab for the wand on my own, _maybe_ then she won’t hurt the rest of you.”

Mal hesitates, and sticks one hand in her pocket before she goes on. “Even if we make a grab, it has to seem like it’s coming from me. If my mom gets word of one of you guys taking the lead on anything, she’s going to have you killed once she gets out of here. She wants to make sure I’m the one coming up into power after her, and I’d rather have you guys mad at me than dead, okay? I don’t care if you hate me for that. It’s gotta be me, and only me who goes for the wand, or else you’re dead, and I couldn’t--” Mal’s voice cracks. “I can’t deal with that.” 

Mal is good in a fight, and she;s good at managing her mother, usually, and bad at dealing with Evie’s mother, and she’s good at preparing dramatic speeches but bad at genuine emotions, and Evie knows all of these things about her, and she’s stitched her up, seen her blood and guts and tears, and pulled her back into her mind when things got too far, and Evie knows Mal, knows the shape of her inside and out, and maybe that’s why-- 

That’s why Evie believes her. 

“Okay.” Evie tells Mal, standing there with sand in her shoes, watching Mal get water in her boots. “I believe you.” 

Mal isn’t done yet. “I want to get us out of here!” she says. “I want to get us out, and then I want us to be alive to get the other kids out, Eves. I want to get Dizzy somewhere she can actually make the things she dreams about. I want to see your friends grow up alive, and if we let my mother think she’s winning for long enough, we can figure out how to get the wand for ourselves, and do what we want with our lives. But if we do that right now, where my mother and her spies can hear us, it’s going to get you all killed or worse! Stupid is a scheme, you know this!” Mal cries, before abruptly lowering her voice down to proper scheming levels. “We can grab the wand on the first night, for all I care. We just can’t talk about it while my mother could be listening.” 

Evie doesn’t want to grab the wand on the first night. Evie wants to forget about the stupid thing until they have a real plan in place, and then make their move. She wants them to figure out how to get themselves out, for real. She doesn’t want to keep seeing Mal hurt by her mother’s pride. “You should have told me!” she hisses back. “Babe, really, I can’t read your mind. I need you to find a way to tell me these things.” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Eves.” Mal says, and oh, she’s almost crying too. “It’s not safe, not with my mother’s eyes and ears out there. I know you want to plan ahead for everything, but it’s not a smart idea until we’re out of here for real, and not just because of my mother. What if they never come to get us? What if it’s all some kind of bizarre long game my mother is playing, and there was never going to be a wand, or a pickup point in the first place? I don’t want to go into this one being stupid, that’s what I meant to tell you. We need to hold off until we can actually think about what we want to do.” 

“I understand.” Evie tells her girlfriend, who is trying so hard to keep their crew safe with the knowledge they have. “I get it.” 

Mal stops. “You do?” she asks. Evie can see the pieces of damp hair around the edge of her face, where she’s been chewing at it again, and the way her eyes are still big and wet at the edges in a way that’s not just because of the sea breeze. 

“Hades’ balls Mal, yes!” Evie whisper-yells at her. “I understand you perfectly fine.” 

Mal’s hand inches back up towards her hair. “You’re still mad.” she says, hip cocked back and shoulders pressed low and confident, looking every inch the little leader, except for the nervous twitch in her hand and the signs that only Evie knows how to see. 

Evie sighs. She is mad, but she’s not  _ just  _ mad anymore. “I’m upset, Mal,” she says “that you couldn’t find a way to tell me, instead of leaving me to shout at you in front of everyone. That was pretty stupid of you. You couldn’t write me a note?” 

Mal ducks her head, just for a second. “I didn’t think of it.” 

“You’re an idiot sometimes, Mal Bertha.” Evie snaps, just barely mad anymore. 

Mal flashes her teeth, just barely. “I know.” she says, and oh, it’s shaky. 

Evie crumbles, just like that. Just like the wet sand they’re standing on always crumbles against the tide. Inevitable-like. 

“Fine, yes, you’re my idiot.” Evie tells her, and opens her arms. “Come here.” 

Mal comes. Inevitable, just like the sand they’re standing on. 

“We’re going to get off this rock.” Mal mumbles into Evie’s collarbone, eventually. “We’re gonna get off and we’re gonna betray our parents somehow, and we’re gonna get you all the pretty dresses you could ever want, and all the supplies you could ever need, and we’re not going to have to be scared all the time anymore. We’re gonna get there, Eves, however it has to happen.” 

Evie ducks her head down to meet Mal’s, to touch her lips to the crown of Mal’s head, where her hair grows a little bit bluer. “By tooth or claw?” 

Mal flashes her a sharp-toothed grin. Evie can feel her mouth moving, but also, she knows Mal’s repertoire of expressions by now even when she can’t see her face. “By my wings, I swear it.” Mal whispers. 

Evie lets her get away with the lie. “How’re you going to tell the boys?” she asks. 

Mal waves a hand. “I’ll find them in the morning. Or they’ll tell each other, whatever.” 

“You aren’t going to see your mom tonight?” 

Mal sniffles. Gross. “Nah,” she says. “The old bat can find me herself if she decides she cares so much. She can suck my entire ass if she tries to drag me out of the hideout before I want to be found.” 

“Them’s fighting words, babe.” Evie says. “You wanna fight her for me?” 

“I’d fight the whole island for you.” Mal says, soft, like she’s admitting it to herself. “Whoever you need.” 

“You might need to fight Mads.” Evie realizes. “I told her about us leaving.” 

Mal goes still. “What, like--?” 

“About the whole princess school thing. Not the other part. I had to tell her, babe. She’s taking my stash while we’re gone, and she might as well know why.” 

Mal tips her head back. “Fuuuck.” she groans, long and loud and utterly self-indulgent. “Yeah, okay. Tell whoever. We won’t be around to see it.” 

Evie can’t help herself. She starts giggling, only a little bit hysterically. “It’s gonna be chaos. Nobody in the market keeping apple prices down.” 

“Nobody to throw bottles into the harbor.” 

“Nobody keeping the barge workers on their toes anymore.” 

“Fuck. Yeah.” Mal tips her chin down, glancing at Evie through the fan of her deep purple bangs. “Are you gonna give away the chit?” 

Evie snorts, indelicate under the cover of the waves. “No. We’re allowed to bring our things with us, I assume. I’m certainly not leaving it behind to fall into somebody else’s grubby hands. Imagine, Maddy with the chit?” 

“She’d sell it before it had the time to burn her.” Mal says. “Or figure out how to make a decent flail, I guess.” 

“She would!” Evie laughs. “Oh, babe, she so would.” 

“I bet Uma would like to get her hands on it.” Mal says, casually like she isn’t when she’s talking about her ex-girlfriend. “She’d go crazy if she found out you just gave it away.” 

“Oh, don’t even talk about her. If this is a trap, she’s going to be absolutely insufferable when they send us back.” 

Mal laughs, just a little bit of a cackle in her tone. She wouldn’t fail Evil Laughs for it, but she wouldn’t be getting an A+ either. “I wouldn’t worry. Once they get us past that barrier, it’s home free, baby. We’re not coming back in, even if they kick us out of their fancy prep school.” 

“Rotten twinsies.” Evie says, with a last glance up at the stars. It’s not quite the four of them, but she holds her hand out anyway. 

Mal bumps it. “Forever.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all know that feeling when you become possessed by some insane disney-monster version of yourself and churn out 28 pages of content for a fic that's not even the one you're supposed to be working on?? 
> 
> me too. Have a mini update.

Evie shoots Mal a look. Like, a shut-your-dumb-face-or-I’ll-cut-you-and-I-don’t-care-where-you-bleed kind of look. The kind of look that promises bad things in Mal’s future if she doesn’t follow Evie’s lead on this one, for once in her stupid life. 

Mal shuts her dumb face. 

“Ben?” Evie asks softly. “We really aren’t planning on killing anyone. Or enslaving, beating, enthralling, or cursing people. We don’t want to have to hurt anybody.” 

Ben glances up through his fingers at her. “Oh, that’s great,” he says. “I want to believe you.” 

Evie winces. “We aren’t our parents.” 

Ben sighs. “I know.” 

Mal should be able to help Evie out with this one. Prince-wrangling, it’s kind of her thing now. They’ve been flirting for a good long while, she should have this well in hand. Just get it together, Mal, and figure out what to do. 

Easy. 

Mal opens her mouth. Closes it again. It’s crazy how blank her mind can go when she needs to think of something important and not evil to say. Something that will prove how trustworthy and not-treasonous they are. Nevermind how they just started a fight in front of all of the most important royalty in Auradon, and a few from outside it, here for the coronation next weekend and visiting their children at the most royalty-filled school in a dozen kingdoms. By all means, look over here, where the innocent fairy girl is-- 

Totally failing to come up with anything. Great. 

Evie doesn’t miss a beat. She gives Ben her best, most trustworthy look. “So, can we talk to you?” she asks. “For real, and not with the assumption that just because we haven't been telling you everything, we’re secretly plotting to kill everyone in the school? Because we really aren’t. Kind of the opposite, if we’re being honest.” 

Ben looks a little concerned at that, which is more than fair. Mal is a little concerned, if she’s being honest. Mentioning the phrase ‘killing everyone in the school’, right after they knocked someone out, oh, in the school, not the best move Eves could have made. 

Ben recovers faster than Mal can kick her dumb ass back into gear. Damnit. 

“Yeah.” he says. “You guys can always talk-- I shouldn’t have-- anyway. It doesn’t matter. What did you want to talk about?” 

It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. Like watching somebody run towards a cliff, and knowing there are rocks and not water at the bottom like they’re hoping. Mal can feel the thump of her heart under her sensible blue and purple jacket. Mother have mercy, she’s still wearing her jacket. 

Well. There’s no parents left to impress with their descent into civility anymore, and Mal sure as hell feels like she does when she’s going in to see her mother. 

“Well.” Evie says, slowly. “That is. Um. Fairy Godmother’s wand?” 


End file.
